Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe
increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw,
within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An Angel writing in a book of
gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord Answered,
"The names of
those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not
so," Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still;
and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one
that loves his fellow-men."
The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had
blessed,
And, lo Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!
Hymn to God My God, in My
Sickness
JOHN DONNE
Since I am coming to that holy room, Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore, I shall be made thy music; as I come I tune the instrument here at the door, And what I must do then, think
now before.
Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown That this is my south-west discovery
'0 Per fretum febris, by these strains to die,
I joy, that in these straits, I see my west; For, though their currents yield return to none,
What shall my west hurt me? As west and east In all flat maps (and I am one) are one, So death doth touch the resurrection.
Is the Pacific Sea my home? Or are The eastern riches? Is Jerusalem? Anyan, and Magellan, and Gibraltar, All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them,
20 Whether where Japhet
dwelt, or Cham, or Shem.
We think that Paradise and Calvary, Christ's cross, and Adam's tree, stood in one place; Look Lord, and find both Adams met in me; As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face, May the last
Adam's blood my soul embrace.
So, in his purple wrapped receive me Lord, By these his thorns give me his other crown;
And as to others' souls I preached thy word, Be this my text, my sermon to mine own,
Therefore that he may
raise the Lord throws down.
Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8 ANONYMOUS
OLD
TESTAMENT, KING JAMES VERSION)
Every thing there is a season,
ls a time to every purpose under the heaven:
time to be born, and a time to die;
time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is
planted;
time to kill, and a time to heal;
time to break down, and a time to build up;
time to weep, and a time to laugh;
time to mourn, and a time to dance;
time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones
together; time to embrace,
and a time to refrain from embracing;
:ime to get, and a time to lose;
time to keep, and a time to cast away;
time to rend, and a time to sew;
time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
time to love, and a time to hate;
time of war, and a time of peace.
Thou Art
Indeed Just, Lord
GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS
1889 1918 Justus quidem tu es, Domine, si disputem tecum;
verumtamen justa loquar ad te: Quare via impiorum prosperatur? &c.
Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I
contend With thee;
but, sir, so what I plead is just.
Why do sinners' ways prosper?
and
why must disappointment all I endeavour end?
Wert thou my enemy, 0 thou my friend.
How wouldst thou worse, I
wonder, than thou dost Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls
oflust
Do in spare
hours more thrive than I that spend.
Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes
10 Now, leaved how thick! laced they are again
With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes
Them; birds build-but not I build; no, but
strain, Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.
Mine, 0 thou lord of life,
send my roots rain.
A Hymn to God the Father
JOHN DONNE
I
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which is my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still: though still I do deplore?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I
have more.
II
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin? and, made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year, or two, but wallowed in a score?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I
have more.
III
I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by thy self, that at my death thy son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
And, having done that, thou hast done,
I fear no more.
Know
The Thy Self
ALEXANDER POPE
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan,
The proper study of mankind is Man.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side,
With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act or rest,
In doubt to deem himself a God or Beast,
In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such
Whether he thinks too little or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused, or disabused;
Created half to rise and half to fall;
Great lord of all things,yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled;
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
Go, wondrous creature! mount where science guides:
Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides:
Instruct the planets in what orbs to run,
Correct old time and regulate the Sun;
Go, soar with Plato to th' empyreal sphere,
Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.
Ring out false pride in place
and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the
narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be
The Second Coming
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS [1865-1939]
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand;
The Second Coming!
Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert
birds. |